Today is April 11. In the first two weeks of April, I have arranged/participated in/organized/scheduled/attended EIGHT appointments for The Boy, and totally forgot about one appointment (rescheduled for later this month). And if my estimates are correct, we will probably have seven more appointments before the month is over. That's a grand total of SIXTEEN appointments.
I've also arranged funding/scheduling for The Boy to go to camp for a week this summer. A new psychiatrist has been found, prescriptions have been picked up, and when I fill up his 28-compartment pill box each week, all he has to do is know the day of the week and the time of day to get the proper dose.
Yes, I am well aware that he has serious issues. That's why we have a team of people to try to help him.
I spent an inordinate amount of time and brain power here, not to mention telephone time, gasoline, and time spent schlepping him around.
I make few demands, his list of chores is short and they're easy to complete. He's not turned out to be my domestic chore minion, as I had planned.
The kid lives on fucking Easy Street.
And after all my efforts, what do I get in return? Insults. Demands. Threats. Belligerence. Attitude.
I don't see him trying.at.all. He's not taking advantage of what we're trying to teach him, he's not appreciating any of the help I've managed to get for him. Other than being compliant (most of the time) with taking his meds, I get zero cooperation.
He wants me to die. He's threatened to cut me (no knives were brandished, it was just talk). He's threatened to jump out of the van. He's threatened to walk home from an appointment. I'm "a fucking bitch", and I should just "shut up".
He's been an ass, and was particularly obnoxious at his Transition Skills meeting this week. I was embarrassed for myself, and then, for him, as the other young people were laughing AT him.
Thursday, I will attend a parent/teacher conference. His latest report card was good, all As and Bs. I get no complaints from school.
He saves all of the bad stuff just for me. I know that he feels safe to unload it on me - it's been almost 17 years, and I'm still here. I haven't kicked him out, or asked him to leave (like daycares and schools have done).
Generally, I am thick-skinned to his ranting, but I fear I have reached my breaking point. I'm weary of being his dumping ground, his verbal punching bag.
I am angry. I am hurt. I am discouraged; I'm incredibly sad.
I'm struggling to not take this personally...and I'm mentally berating myself about the many ways I failed him.
I wonder if my expectations for his future success are too high - maybe I should just cancel all of the appointments and look for a place where they'll lock him up, and try to get myself an actual life.
You'd think that after all of these appointments with the "experts", they'd have the answers for me, that they'd come up with a sure-fire plan of action to help The Boy do his best.
Calgon, take me away.